Star Floors: A New Dope
by Monty Python61
Summary: Puke Smoopywhopper, in love with the gangsta of the rebels, Playa Banana, leads a daring mission to destroy the Dope Star. Along the way many adventures and much craziness takes place. Join Puke in his quest to save the galaxy.


Hello everyone! The long-awaited A New Dope has arrived, and is no less bizarre then Star Floors: Revenge of the Smith. If you like Revenge of the Smith, then you are sure to enjoy A New Dope. Either way, if you like it or don't, please review.

Dislcaimer: I dont own anything. Cept my ipod.

STAR Floors

A New Dope

* * *

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away...

A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main

title. War drums echo through the heavens as a rollup

slooooooooooooowly crawls into infinity.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND ACTION!

It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a

hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Cracked-out Empire.

During the battle, dumb rebel spies have managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Dope Star, an armored space station with enough crack to destroy an entire planet.

Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess Playa Banana races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans (and dope) that can save her people and restore order to the galaxy...

A large Imperial Lifedestroyer chased a small rebel runner through the blackness of space. Inside the rebel ship, a tall skinny gold droid was walking along a passage with a short small astro droid and whining his heart out.

"There will be no escape for the princess this time, or the time after this, or even the time after that or the time after…" he continued his mindless ramblings. Bodies of rebels were flying everywhere, not dead bodies, alive bodies…they were bouncing off the walls (literally) because the firing from the Lifedestroyer had shut off the artificial gravity. Ghastly screams could be heard throughout the ship. "Ahhhh my head!" "Yeeeowww that was my elbow!" and "My juice is floating away!"

Another blast shook the ship and the gravity generator came back on, all the rebels falling on their faces. More screams could be heard. A terrific blast opened a gap in the main passageway. Several cone troopers blasted their way in, some of their fire hitting the rebels.

* * *

The flat bare landscape of Potooine stretched for miles. Not a speck could be seen except for the shape of a distant figure lying on his back with Transitions sunglasses on his overly tanned face, humming a horrid tune. The figure was holding a Blue Milk Coolata from Sunken Snownuts and trying to drink it while lying on his back and not let the icy goodness go up his nose. He was Puke Smoopywhopper, famed doer of absolutely nothing. He was terribly lazy except when the Bantha meat pizza leftovers had to be eaten by Friday.

"PUUUUUUUUUUUUUKE! Oh PUUUUUUUKE!" Puke heard his aunt calling and groaned loudly, knowing his aunt had some wonderful, long, nasty chores for him to do. He rose slowly, his joints stiff from lying still for three and a half hours, except for the occasional sip of his coolata. "I'M BUSY, AUNT!" he screamed back, looking around for something that might have been plausible to have kept him busy. All he saw was sand, sun and his speeder. His speeder! That was it!

The question he knew was coming came. "WITH WHAT?" she yelled.

"MY SPEEDER BROKE DOWN AND I'M FIXING IT!" he hollered back. Nothing came in reply so he figured he was off the hook and lay back down, but not before he grabbed a magazine from his perfectly working speeder.

Soon, another speeder hummed towards the boy, with his uncle in it, being driven by a droid. Puke didn't hear it approaching so he had no time to sit up and pretend to be working on his speeder.

"Puke," he uncle growled, "what in Sand's name do you think you're doing lazing around when there's work to be done?"

"Sand's name? What kind of expression is that?" asked Puke changing the subject.

"Well I-don't change the subject!" he snapped, wagging his finger in front of the boy's nose. Large, stupid, fake tears rolled down Puke's face.

"Oh for the love of…" his uncle grabbed him and shoved him into the speeder and drove home.

* * *

Hearth Persuader of the Smith clomped through the hole in the passageway, breathing loudly. He turned this way and that looking down at the bodies of cones and rebels along the floor. He had to turn his whole body because he couldn't just turn his head. They had forgotten that issue when they made the suit for him.

In another part of the ship, a lady with cornrows and a white hoodie inserted a card into the small astro droid, Artoo Detoo. The gold droid, See Threepio was looking frantically for him and eventually found the girl and the smaller droid in a small passageway. "There you are Artoo!" he cried. The lady looked over her shoulder and then hurried away.

The two droids, with much protesting on Threepio's part, climbed into an escape pod.

Hearth Persuader stood looking at all the dead or dying rebels and grabbed one by the neck. "Heeey man," he said sounding very high, "You got any plans…or…plans?" he asked.

The officer shook his head, extremely afraid.

"Ok man. That's cool," he dropped the guy who was very relived. One of the Imperial Officers tapped Hearth Persuader on the shoulder. "Excuse me Lord Persuader, but mustn't we look further on board the ship?"

"Yeah man. Gotta find those plans…or the…plans…"

"MEN!" the officer yelled, "Lord Persuader commands that you search the ship until you find her. He wants her alive!"

The girl was, of course, Princess Playa Banana, the infamous gangster of the rebels. She had cornrows weaving all over head and spoke with slang. She hid in a corner with a nine-caliber pistol in her right hand and a lump of cash in the other. A few cones came around looking for her so she jumped out and pointed the pistol at them. "Wut up yo?" she yelled firing at them.

"It's Playa!" one of the cones yelled setting his gun to 'stun' and firing back. The shot hit her and she fell to the ground the money flying into the air like confetti. It looked extremely like a Fiddy Cent music video or one of those rappers…they all look alike. (Except for Lil Wayne, Diddy, Jay-z, Eminem (of course), Fat Joe and Pharrel. Those I can tell apart.)

The troopers looked at her. "She'll be all right," said one.

The commanders on board the Lifedestroyer watched the escape pod where Artoo and Threepio were, with skepticism. "There's another one. "

"Blast it!" another guy yelled. They were having a marvelous time pretending they were playing the video game _Galactic Bloody War_. Just before the captain pulled the trigger a general walked up, and they pretended to be focused on serious things.

Back on the rebel ship, Playa had woken and was being led down the halls to meet with Hearth Persuader. When they finally arrived in front of him, Playa was impressed with Persuader's style. "Yo, yo robes down, y'feel me, ya know wi da black and all dat."

Persuader had become a bit more sober in the past hours so he did not find her amusing. "Princess Playa Banana, where are the plans you have?"

"Plans? I don't know 'bout no plans y' know wut I'm sayin?"

"Lord, she'll die before she reveals anything," said a commander.

"OFF WITH HER HEAD!" shrieked Persuader as best he could.

"Uh, my Lord, you cannot behead her. It is against the customs of this ahhhhhh!" Persuader pushed the man into a wall. Persuader looked back at Playa who was busily counting her extra stash of money and adjusting the Bling around her neck. She had a huge green and white diamond dollar sign, and a couple bazillion gold and platinum chains. She pulled a white baseball cap out of her white baggy jeans pocket and put it on sideways. Of course while talking, Playa used the famous rapper hand movements, which are a bit hard to describe.

"Take her away!" the commander screamed.

They grabbed Playa's arms and with her yelling the foulest curses you could wish to hear, they dragged her away: "This is racial profilin, I could sue y' all for this…I ain't even ridin' dirty…" and so on.

Persuader figured that she had hidden the plans in one of the escape pods so he yelled for a commander to track the landings of each one.

* * *

The escape pod had crashed on the barren planet of Potooine and the two droids were walking aimlessly across the plains of the land.

"Let's go this way," Threepio motioned, accidentally pushing Artoo off a cliff. "Oh dear!" the gold droid cried, femininity in his voice as usual. "Whatever shall I do now? Why must I suffer like this?"

Artoo was extremely annoyed with Threepio, and when he turned on his flying device, and flew up and landed right next to the gold droid, he zapped him on the rear.

"Ow!" the girly droid yelped, bashing the other on the dome. "I try and save you and all I get for thanks is being electrocuted?"

Artoo had had enough and so he rolled away from the caterwauling Threepio.

Artoo rolled down a canyon humming quietly to himself, not paying attention to the ominous boulders that hung maliciously over his dome. Small creatures, which were looking for droids that could make coffee, surrounded the unknowing Artoo. The Javas, as those whom they knew fondly called them, were all hooked on caffeine to the point where they were completely jittery and off-the-wall. They had this insatiable urge to find machines that could make coffee. They figured that the ones who could not produce their favorite brew, they could sell. Unfortunately for the Javas, ninety-nine percent of machines they captured could not even generate one delicious drop of a cappuccino. They zapped Artoo with a phazer and he rolled over.

The persistent gold droid we all know as Threepio wandered aimlessly across the desert, all the while complaining about how awful his life was. Unbeknownst to him, the same fate that befell poor Artoo was creeping its gangly way toward him at quite a clip. Literally. He saw the Java's sandcrawler gleaming like a diamond from across what seemed a great distance. He ran toward it as best as his motorized legs could.

Threepio's waking mind found him in a dark, gloomy place with a delightful smell. More often than not, when one is in a dark and gloomy place, once expects the smell of that place to be less than amiable. This, however, could not be said for this particular dark and gloomy place, for the air smelled greatly of hazelnut and vanilla. This was because of the very large coffee mills and breweries aboard the vessel. But Threepio did not know this fact. Artoo zapped Threepio on the rear.

"Blast!" Threepio cried, getting ready to hit the foul fiend who would dare to zap him. He turned and saw to his amazement and horror that Artoo stood behind him grinning. Well, he really wasn't grinning, but Threepio could see the obvious glee that the astro droid took in his present state.

* * *

The cone troopers stood around the crashed pod on the hot planet. One took off his helmet because his head was rather sweaty.

"Hey," another cone shouted, "who are you?"

"I'm your clone!" the other yelled. "Who are you?"

"My clone?" the second asked, "then who am I?"

"You're not you," the first replied.

"Well who are you if I'm not me?" the second said frantically.

"I'M YOU!" the other snapped.

"But I'm not me!" the second said. "Are you me or am I you?"

"You're me" the first hollered back. "Ah and who's he?"

The third clone had taken off his helmet. "I'm you too!"

The second hooted, "But I'M not me!"

"Now you know the secret, now you must die," the third clone said. "Which one are you?"

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

"Ah!"

They gave up and searched the pod. Finding nothing but a pair of tracks to which they gave no heed, they left.

* * *

Back with our favorite droids, they had been lined up in front of the sandcrawler and Javas were running crazily about, completely high on caffeine.

Puke had been dragged into the house by his ear, which was now rather red, and was feeling very miserable. He felt very unlucky to be cursed with such horrid guardians. But there was still work to be done so he lay back in his hammock in the cellar and worked hard on his ham sandwich. Oh too soon he heard his aunt's horrid screeching wafting into the cool cellar and he cringed. His aunt's voice was that of a rake being dragged across rough pavement and he, for the life of him, did not know how he had put up with it for all his years.

Groaning, he hoisted himself out of his super soft hammock and lugged his body up the stairs. He poked his nose around the corner to see if the coast was clear. Unfortunately, he had a rather large nose, so his aunt immediately saw it and yanked it hard. "Ow!" he screamed, going red in the face.

"Go outside with your uncle! He's looking to buy some new droids for this dump!" she screamed, her nose a mere half-inch from his own.

"You don't have to yell! I'm right here!" Puke hollered back, storming outside. He ambled to his uncle who was busily talking with a Java who had a mug of coffee permanently attached to his fist. He tapped his uncle on the shoulder and pasted a cheesy grin on his face. His uncle turned around and booted him in the butt.

"Go take these two droids and clean 'em!" he shrieked, pointing at Artoo and Threepio who looked very bewildered.

"You don't have to yell, gosh!" he screamed back. He marched to the two droids and pushed them along.

When the three were in the basement, Puke shoved Threepio into an oil bath.

"Ah! This hits the spot!" Threepio cried in glee.

"Well goody for you," Puke hissed, attaching a tracking device to Artoo. "Will it never end?" Puke wailed his arms flung above his head, waving theatrically.

"What sir?" Threepio asked.

"Life!" Puke glared at the submerged droid as if he were the cause of all his misery. "And just call me Puke."

"Oh my!" Threepio exclaimed.

Artoo beeped angrily at Puke.

Puke whacked the droid and slunk into a corner to hug his machinery and pout for all he was worth, which was only about three and nine sixteenths cents. "Oh pitiful me!" he sobbed.

Threepio looked at Artoo and shrugged.

Soon, Puke's uncle's screaming floated down into the murky coolness of the basement, calling for Puke to finish cleaning the droids, saying: or so help me I will throttle you real good this time.

Puke groaned and began to scrape Artoo really hard. He accidentally got his tool stuck in Artoo's holo-matrix and a strange form flickered out of Artoo. It was the image of Playa Banana. She kept repeating the phrase, "Yo, help me Mopy Khan Kleenobi, I need mah dope."

"Who is she?" Puke asked.

Threepio looked at Artoo. "Oh, she's a gangster…for the Rebels. Pay her no heed."

"Who says 'heed' nowadays?" Puke asked, turning to Threepio, disgust written on his face.

"Um, me sir?" Threepio said.

"Whatever, I just want to find this chick, maybe she'll dig me." Puke began daydreaming. "Oh and just call me Puke."

Artoo beeped sarcastically.

"I am sure she will find you to be a very pleasant young man," Threepio said, attempting to be nice.

"Yeah…I'm sure she will," Puke replied.

Artoo beeped something at Threepio.

"Hey, you got any more of this message?" Puke asked.

Artoo beeped even more.

"He says that he belongs to a Mopy Khan Kleenobi," Threepio said.

"Hmmm," Puke mumbled, "I wonder if he means old Mop Kleenobi…"

Artoo beeped again.

"Excuse me sir," Threepio began.

"Man she is a hottie," Puke muttered and slicked back his hair. "And just call me Puke."

"Artoo says if you want to see the entire message that you will have to take off his tracking device."

Puke took a hammer and whacked it off. "There!" he screamed, "Play it back now!"

The image flickered and disappeared.

Before poor Puke had time to protest, he heard his aunt's gravely voice screaming from upstairs for him to come to dinner. He glared at Artoo and hustled up to dinner.

"What did you do that for?" Threepio hit Artoo.

Artoo beeped innocently.

Up in the dining room, Puke's aunt, a cold, nasty woman, poured her husband a glass of blue milk, Puke's favorite. Puke sipped his own glass of plain water and sulked profusely. Accidentally dripping some, he wiped his chin with the hem of his sleeve and choked a bit.

"PUKE!" his aunt screamed in his ear, "use a napkin! We're civilized people, not hobos!" She batted him across the head and set down a large platter of food. How she managed to carry the large tray and still be able to whack his head at the same time, Puke was never sure how she managed it.

Trying to lighten the air, Puke mentioned, "You know, I think that Artoo unit might belong to someone else.

"Yeah," his uncle growled, "it belongs to ME."

"No, no, that's not what I meant…" Puke began.

"I KNOW what you meant! Now stop being a porky-mouth and eat your dinner!" his uncle threw a croissant at the boy.

"Can anyone in this house talk without yelling?" Puke yelled, chewed food showing in his mouth.

"Can anyone in this house eat with their mouths closed?" his aunt screamed. "Close your mouth before you chew!"

"Close your mouth before you talk!" Puke cried in retaliation. "But anyways," he swallowed, "what about that droid? He says he belongs to Mopy Khan Kleenobi and I wondered if he could've meant old Mop Kleenobi…"

"Oh just forget about it!" his uncle bellowed, "he's just a crazy old wizard who cheats at Poker and is a no-good, rotten, loser, yoga, voodoo man!" He took a large bite of Bantha stew. "Besides, I paid for him so technically he's mine now."

"But what if this Mopy Khan comes looking for him?" Puke asked, his fork twirling in his stew.

"He won't!" his uncle roared. Then calming down a bit he continued, "I think he died about the same time as your old pops."

"He KNEW my dad?" Puke asked incredulously.

"Where do you get that? I said he DIED about the same time as your father…nothing about his knowing him! Holy donuts!" He shook his fork menacingly at the boy.

"I hate you," Puke said.

"Thank goodness," his uncle replied.

"Can I go to school this year?" Puke asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not!" his uncle said loudly, "We need you to do the crap that we don't want to do ourselves."

Puke gasped. "Potty mouth!" he accused.

"Oh shut up," his aunt defended.

"This family stinks!" Puke wailed, hurling his fork into the wall. It happened to be a very soft wall and a very sharp fork.

"Get used to it kid, cause you're going to be here for a looooong time," his uncle said, glee written on his worn face. "Now go back and finish cleaning those droids, you moron!"

Puke stomped off, his boots making very loud clomping sounds. He made his way outside and gazed at the two bright red suns of Potooine. He wished that he could travel beyond the planet that he had grown to hate. He looked at the suns wistfully until he began seeing purple spots and decided that that was enough sun gazing for one day.

He ambled back down into the basement and saw Threepio standing there, looking very worried. When he saw Puke he cried, "Oh master Puke, please don't kill me or turn me into scrap!"

"What the heck is it now?" Puke grumbled.

"Artoo is malfunctioning; I told him not to go! But he kept saying something about the mission for the dope or some such nonsense!"

"Oh great. NOW what am I supposed to do? My uncle will shoot me for sure this time…only with a REAL gun and not a cheap BB one like last time," Puke babbled, waving his arms histrionically.

"Last time sir?" Threepio asked, shocked.

"Never mind… and just call me Puke. We've got to find our little runaway before my creep of an uncle finds out," Puke said, grabbing his binoculars and running outside. Nine and a half seconds later, he ran back into the cellar and screamed, "He's nowhere in sight! I'll have to look for him tomorrow because there are too many tanned people out at this time."

"What are tanned people?" Threepio asked.

"They're people who go to too many tanning salons so they look unnaturally tan. And they're usually blond and from California."

"I see sir."

"Just call me Puke," Puke said wearily.

"Why are they so dangerous?" Threepio questioned.

"Because they'll go ballistic on you if you look in the slightest bit white. And I'm borderline albino for Pete's sake!" Puke said.

"Forgive me, sir, but you do not appear to be borderline albino," Threepio remarked.

Puke stomped his very tan foot. "Yes I am!" he shrieked.

"Oh dear me," Threepio muttered.

"And just call me Puke," Puke added.

His uncle's voice drifted outside. "PUKE! I'm shutting down the power! And unless you want to sleep outside, you better get in here!"

"I'll be right there!" Puke hollered back.

"And make it snappy!" his aunt added. "I need you to wash the dishes!"

* * *

Wow. Well that's a good start. I probably will not update for a bit since i want to get a good deal more written. I had actually wanted to complete the story before I started posting, but I'm impatient.

Anyways, REVIEW I DOTH COMMAND THEE!

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